


Wasting Time

by potentiality_26



Category: Thorne (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Christmas, First Time, Jealousy, M/M, New Year's Eve, Post-Canon, Sarah Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 12:21:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15119315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potentiality_26/pseuds/potentiality_26
Summary: “How have you done this all these years?” Sarah asked, still hovering over his shoulder.  “Isn’t checking up on men all the time exhausting?”"I haven’t...”  Tom swallowed hard.  “I haven’t done this.”  He had never felt the need to.  If he could count his own serious relationships on one hand, he could count Phil’s on no hands.  Phil actually, seriously dating someone was unprecedented, and that would always have been scary- but it was doubly so now that things between them were on the cusp of back to normal, but might never get all the way there again.Phil gets a boyfriend.  Tom gets a clue.





	Wasting Time

**Author's Note:**

> Title vaguely drawn from "Treat You Better" by Shawn Mendes, mainly because it amused me to do so. And yes, you should imagine the OMC being played by Charlie Hunnam, because why wouldn't you? You can probably tell from the content of this fic how long it took me to finish it, but it's here now and it works as a wild card for my H/C bingo (prompt: estrangement). 
> 
> Not Brit-picked.

It started with a smile.

Phil had just finished his post-mortem on the first- and hopefully last- body dropped in Tom’s current investigation, and Tom had come at his call but lingered outside the doors, just watching him.  He was at the far end of the room, leaned against the sink with one of his arms folded across his chest and his mobile to his ear.  The long sleeves underneath his scrubs were hiked up just enough for Tom to see a few of his tattoos, and as he talked his tongue flickered out across his lips. 

He ducked his head, and when it came back up he was smiling- not the knife-sharp manic one he too often wore, and not the combative punch-in-the-mouth one either.  This smile was soft, pressing dimples into his cheeks and forming crinkles around his eyes.

Tom’s mouth went dry as a desert just looking at him- and he stood there, rooted to the spot in the hall, for what felt like a million years- though judging from the words Phil’s mouth was forming it was probably actually less than a minute.  And then DS Chen blew right past him on her way into the morgue.

She stopped about three steps in and looked back, saying, “What?”  And, “You coming?”

Sarah had been back on the force for a while by then.  She had been in the hospital, and then in rehab, and just which strings Phil had pulled with Ruth to get her back Tom didn’t know, but he had. 

It had never occurred to Tom that it was something he prized- being Phil’s only real friend on the police force- until he became one of two.  It was Phil who had kept Sarah alive in that patch of scrub land until the paramedics got there.  Her eyes had been wide and unfocused, and Tom had been so sure they would lose her, but Phil kept saying, _you’ll be all right, you’ll make it_ over and over, and she was and she did.  Tom should have known then that Phil wouldn’t let her go easy, not in any respect, not after that.  And it wasn’t like Tom didn’t think she deserved the second chance Phil had managed to acquire for her.  He just didn’t particularly want to be the one giving it to her.   

But in the end Phil had persevered.  So Tom worked with Sarah, figuring he could fake trust until he felt it, and in return Phil... tried.  He tried to joke with Tom, tried to go out for a drink with him after work from time to time, tried to make things normal again.  Sometimes, that meant his humor had teeth it never had before.  Others, it meant he was more likely to ditch Tom for the guy making eyes at him at the other end of the bar.  Others still, he was a little less patient with his explanations than he used to be- and he had never been too patient.  But often, things really did seem to go back to the way they used to be.  In fact, they were almost better, because something inside Phil, something itchy and aching underneath his skin, had somehow finally been soothed. 

Phil lifted a hand when he saw the two of them, waving and giving the universal sign for ‘just a minute.’  Tom nodded to him.  It was enough that Phil’s smile didn’t harden or drop off his face altogether when Tom walked in.  And if the bulk of his fond looks were saved for Sarah these days, Tom knew he had to bury the sting of it deep.  It was like the way Sarah still got twitchy and quiet now and then, even though she had been clean for a long while now.  Some things just never went away; some things just broke and couldn’t be fixed.  But they could, maybe, be stronger in the broken places.  It just took a lot of work.

“Yeah,” Phil said, still smiling.  “I’ll see you then.  Me too.  Bye.”  He hung up, then looked at Tom and Sarah.  “Okay, let’s get started.”

*   *   *

Tom’s case came to an end almost as quickly as it had begun.

Phil had found a hair and a bit of dried blood lodged beneath the victim’s fingernails, and he had been fairly sure that some of both would belong to the killer.  He showed them how it was done with Sarah as his guinea pig, because they had figured out a while ago by then that Tom had to see it to really understand what happened, and Phil didn’t seem interested in doing it with him anymore.  Sarah, though, seemed to get a kick out of it: Phil hooking his arm around her neck from behind and saying something in her ear that made her grin and relax into him.

Phil said, “This is gonna take a while to actually put you out.  Much longer than in the movies.”

And Sarah said, “So I would...”  And she lifted her hands up to press her fingers into Phil’s tattooed forearm, trying to get a grip on him somewhere.  Then she scrabbled up to his head, trying to find something more to grab onto.

And Phil said, “That’s it."  And he gave her a squeeze that was almost a hug before he let her go.

And Tom didn’t say anything.  He had thought he missed Phil doing that to him because it was so useful.  He was starting to think that that wasn’t it at all.  

Anyway, Phil was right about the hair and the blood, and there a match for both already in the system, which led them to man on parole after doing time for aggravated assault.  Tom let Sarah make the arrest, let her and Dave do the initial interview, and together they secured a confession right off.  So it was all over, that easy- only Tom couldn’t stop thinking about Phil’s smile.  And their friendship wasn’t really in a place where he could really ask about it- not anymore, if indeed it ever had been, which Tom wasn't sure it had- and yet Tom had to _know_. 

So he went to see Phil later in the evening.  Phil was in his office and out of his scrubs, typing a few last things into his computer.  Phil didn’t demand to know what Tom was doing there anymore.  Sometimes, when something had happened to bring James Calvert and all those deaths back to the forefront of his mind, Phil’s eyes would say it for him, and now Tom knew to quit while he was ahead and give Phil a wide berth during those times.  They were getting farther and farther apart as a result, but they haunted Tom all the same.   

This wasn’t one of those times, though.  “Need something?” Phil asked as he shut off his computer and grabbed his coat.  “Your suspect panned out, didn’t he?”

“He did.  I just...”  Tom realized that he had fallen silent for too long when he noticed Phil looking at him strangely.  “I just wondered if you... wanted to go out for a drink.”

Phil was still giving him an odd look, but by then that was all.  Any tension in Phil’s shoulders seemed like normal Phil tension- because Phil was always a little tense, a little wary, a little ready for everything to come down on his ears.  Tom was aware that he hadn't helped that.  He would regret it as long as he lived.  “Can’t, sorry,” he said.  “I’ve got a... thing.”

One thing Phil had never done, even when things were most difficult between them, was lie about being busy.  If he didn’t want to see Tom, he said so.  But there was definitely an evasiveness in his answer that made Tom’s hackles go up.  He knew better than to admit it, though.  Phil had his own life, and Tom was just never going to be as much a part of it as he once was.  He needed to make peace with that, even though he would always regret it too.  “Right,” Tom said.  “Maybe some other time, yeah?”

Phil nodded, smiled, and finished getting his stuff together.

Tom lingered after he left, heading for the window he knew overlooked the entrance.  He wasn’t really planning anything, but he wanted to see a little more of Phil.  The way he moved was always so fascinating.  Tom just... enjoyed watching him.

Down at street level, Phil stepped out.  And that was when Tom saw _him_ \- the blond guy who was lingering on the sidewalk nearby.  He was younger than Phil, inasmuch as Tom could guess from that distance, and taller too, with a neat chin beard and broad shoulders.  And he was obviously waiting for Phil, who said something to him that made him grin, broadly.  

They kissed.  It was a quick kiss, not steamy at all but unmistakably romantic nevertheless.  Tom wasn’t immediately sure what scared him so much about it.  He had seen Phil kiss before, in clubs as he picked someone up or on his doorstep as he bid someone farewell.  To a man, they all looked right through Tom.  And Tom didn’t care, had never cared, because he had no idea what they would see if they did look at him, and he would never have to see them again.  Usually he just looked away.

So at first Tom didn’t know what was suddenly so different, why he couldn’t quite make himself look away this time, why he felt distinctly like someone- Phil, possibly- was peeling aside flesh and bone and leaving his heart exposed to the cold and unforgiving air. 

Was it because this was where Phil worked?  Was it because that kiss was so obviously neither the first nor the last?  Was it because when Phil broke away he smiled at the man and it was _that_ smile- the happy and unselfconscious smile that Tom had seen in the mortuary, and hadn’t been able to coax out of him for such a long time that lately he wasn’t sure he ever had at all?

Tom didn’t know.  But he knew he didn’t like it.

*   *   *

“So let me see if I have this right,” Sarah was saying.  “We’re using police resources to check out Phil’s new boyfriend.”

“Close,” Tom replied.  “ _I’m_ using police resources to check out Phil’s new boyfriend.  _You_ shouldn’t even be here.”  She had been unusually difficult to shake on the way to his office that morning, possibly because she could sense that he was up to something.

Sarah snorted.  “No way.  If he’s dating a murderer I want to know about it.”

Tom tried not to smile, because he knew that Sarah was teasing him and he didn’t want to give her the satisfaction, but his lips twitched and she looked exceedingly pleased with herself.  There had always been a warmth to Sarah’s needling that never fully reached her eyes, but things were different now.  _She_ was different now.  She still had a chip on her shoulder, still got shaky sometimes during a rough case, but she was confident of her place on the team in a way that she had only really pretended to be before.  Phil had made that happen, and even if Tom never properly liked Sarah he would also be proud of Phil for it. 

Not that Phil probably cared if Tom was proud of him anymore.

Tom glowered into the computer screen, trying to ignore the weight of her at his shoulder.  She was teasing him, yes, but she was also giving him an out- letting him pretend that this was just protectiveness when in reality it was... he didn’t even know what it was. 

He did know that Phil probably wasn’t dating a murderer.  Phil had good instincts that way; he hardly ever read somebody totally wrong.  Which wasn’t to say that he had never gravitated to somebody who was dangerous before- James Calvert, anyone?- but he usually went into these things with his eyes wide open.  Tom had wondered, when Phil talked about James, if they were lovers, but considering everything that they learned later, everything that James said about the real Josh Randall, it seemed unlikely.  Phil had probably been one of the only- and certainly one of the last- people in that boy’s life who didn’t expect anything from him. That didn’t really explain the pictures of him that had gotten Kevin so worked up- but then again, maybe it did.  Phil was... beautiful.  Just because James wasn’t psychologically equipped to do anything about it didn’t mean he couldn’t see it.

So the boyfriend probably wasn’t a murderer, or dangerous at all.  But Tom wasn’t going to let that stop him. 

“How have you done this all these years?” Sarah asked, still hovering over his shoulder. “Isn’t checking up on men all the time exhausting?”

"I haven’t...”  Tom swallowed hard.  “I haven’t done this.”  He had never felt the need to.  If he could count his own serious relationships on one hand, he could count Phil’s on no hands.  Phil actually, seriously dating someone was unprecedented, and that would always have been scary- but it was doubly so now that things between them were on the cusp of back to normal, but might never get all the way there again.

Sarah looked at him askance, like he might as well have said all of that out loud.  But she was a good detective, if nothing else, so he shouldn't have been surprised.  “You do know this isn’t normal,” she said.

“You can leave at any time,” Tom reminded her.

She didn’t leave. 

*   *   *

In a way, Tom was glad for her help- and for her constant amusement.  It made the whole thing seem less... serious, even though he was painfully aware of exactly how serious it was.  

Tom kept thinking about what Sarah had said- _you do know this isn’t normal-_ because he did know.  It _wasn’t_ normal- but this guy that Phil was seeing clearly was.  He was a professor, as it turned out, with hardly a traffic citation to his name.  He was a nice man, obviously- nice and normal.  Before he knew it, Tom was building Phil a house in the suburbs with a dog and a back garden in his mind.  He caught himself sharp, remembering that Phil hated the suburbs, didn’t care for dogs, and had historically failed to keep so much as a cactus alive.  He wasn’t suddenly a different person because he had a boyfriend now.

 _But_ \- a nagging doubt in Tom’s head pressed- _what if he wants to be_?

“You okay, Tom?” Phil’s voice broke in.  That was the question, wasn’t it?  It had been three days since Tom first saw the boyfriend, two days since he learned his occupation and calculated that the chances of Phil needing a policeman to ride to his rescue were even slimmer than he previously imagined, and he had imagined they were slim indeed. 

And today- tonight, Tom amended, looking at his watch- tonight his feet had taken him to Phil, like they always seemed to, but he had no idea what to say or do next.  

Phil had his head poked out the mortuary door, and he was frowning at Tom as he asked the question.

“Yeah,” Tom managed to reply, leaning against the hallway wall.

“Come in, then,” Phil said.  “I’m just finishing up here.”

The relief Tom felt whenever Phil let him in, not just physically but emotionally, unbarred the gates and let him be a friend once more, was still there- it might never completely go away- but it was dulled now by the uncomfortable twisty feeling he got in his gut every time he thought about Phil and _him_.  The boyfriend.    

“ _Tom,_ ” Phil said.

Tom blinked.  “Yeah?”

“I asked if you needed anything.”  Phil was straightening up some things over by the sink.  “You’re really out of it today.”

Tom made himself laugh.  “I guess I am.  And no, I just-” Tom didn’t know how to finish that sentence, so he cast about for something else to say and his eyes landed on the body covered with a sheet on one of Phil’s tables.  “Who’s that for?” he asked.

“Tughan,” Phil answered, pulling a face.  “He thinks it might be a connected to a case he’s been working on.”

Tom straightened up, interested.

Phil’s eyes were dancing but his head was shaking.  “Don’t you dare stick your nose in.  He’ll kill you.  And me.”  He went to the sink, cleaning his hands.  “I think about how he’d do it all the time.  He’d use a gun he could tie back to you.  Make it look like a murder-suicide thing.”

Tom tried to keep his smile mild, just polite, since he had always done his best to ignore the more morbid aspects of Phil’s humor- but this time he couldn’t help grinning stupidly at the sign that Phil was still Phil and not some kind of professor-dating pod person.

Phil caught his look and smiled back, but bemusedly, with a wariness in his eyes.  He jerked his head toward the door and, when Tom followed, turned out the lights and made his way out, peeling off his scrubs as he went.

Tom ignored the whisper of pale skin and dark body hair as Phil did so.  He could swear that that was easier to do, once, than it was in that moment.  “I suppose you’re busy again tonight.”

“I’m not, actually,” Phil replied.

Tom’s mouth was unexpectedly dry.  “Then could we-”

“Sure.”  

It was awkward in ways it wasn’t, once- waiting for Phil to finish clearing up in his office and collecting his things for the night- but it was worth it, just to be around Phil for a while longer.  Tom even let Phil choose the club, just following behind him all the time. 

Phil was quiet the whole way there, but once they got situated in the music and the darkness he said, “All right- what’s going on with you?”

Tom was annoyed by the loudness of the club and grateful for it at once.  If he and Phil were going to talk about this, he sort of wanted it to be somewhere he could actually see and hear him.  But... he and Phil had gone to a lot of these places over the years.  It wasn’t until they stopped that Tom found he missed it- missed the intimacy, the closeness of the press of bodies, the necessity of getting right up against Phil if he wanted to hear what he said and be heard in return.  Phil was close enough now that Tom could feel the heat of his breath on his neck.  “I saw something,” Tom admitted, shutting his eyes.  “Something you probably didn’t mean for me to see and I feel... awkward.”

When Tom opened his eyes again, Phil was looking at him searchingly.  So searchingly it was like Phil wanted to read his mind.  And then he said, “You saw Joe that day, didn't you?”

Joe.  Tom had known that that was his name, of course, from his research- but it was different to hear Phil say it out loud.  And that wasn’t all there was to it, of course, but it was all Tom would willingly admit to, so- “Yeah.”

Phil’s face contorted and he looked away.   

Tom searched for something to say.  “Do you like him?” he tried at last.  “I mean, are you happy together?”

Phil still had a very bitter expression on his face when he looked Tom's way again.  “Is this gonna be something we talk about, then?" he asked.  "Is that what you want?”

“I want... I want whatever you’re comfortable with, Phil.”

“Okay,” Phil said, letting out a sharp huff of breath.  “Yeah.  I like him.  He’s nice.”

And 'nice' was hardly the most resounding description in the world, but it was also the one that Tom had been expecting, so there wasn't really anything else to say. 

Tom leaned close, close enough that over the sour-musky smell of other bodies he could smell Phil, just Phil, who always smelled so clean.  Close enough that he could bury his face in Phil’s hair if he wanted to- and he did want to.  He wanted to like he wanted to look without shame when Phil peeled off his scrubs.  Like he wanted to be the one Phil smiled at the way he smiled at the boyfriend.  At _Joe._  

“Good,” Tom managed.  “Good.  I need another drink.”

 *   *   *

Because actually, the smile Tom saw that day in the mortuary wasn’t the start of it all, not really.  The start of it all was actually one night, a very long time ago.  One night Tom would always remember, and always try to forget. 

They were in a club that night too, though a different one, and it was late.  Tom had been newly promoted back then, and trying to get to bed at a decent hour on work nights, trying to clean up his act at least a little, and he had said that he was going home at least three times over the course of the evening, though he hadn’t yet managed it. 

Phil was a few feet away from him, dancing so close to some guy that Tom couldn’t tell where one of them ended and then other began.  And then suddenly the crush of people shifted and shoved Phil up against Tom’s chest.

Tom's hands went around Phil’s waist to steady him.  The flashing lights of the club glittered on Phil’s teeth.  “Having fun?” Phil asked.

The crowd shifted again, giving Phil space to move, but Tom didn’t let go of him.  The obvious answer was to say _not really_ and finally make himself leave.  The less obvious answer, the one that tugged at Tom’s tongue nevertheless, was to say _I could be_ and draw Phil closer instead, see what it felt like to have Phil that close to him for a change, see where it led after.

But instead of either he forced a smile and said, “Sure I am.”

And that was that.  Soon Tom would meet a woman he really, really liked.  Soon Frank Calvert would start killing.  It would be a while, even so, before Tom was put on the case.  Long enough for his relationship with that woman to get serious- talking about starting a family serious, ring at the back of his sock drawer serious.  Long enough for six men to die and put an edge of fear in clubs like that one. 

But then Tom would be put on the case, and he would be the one who to suspect Frank when no one else did.  And then- well, then everything would be different.

*   *   *

Tom woke up with the kind of headache that made a man swear faithfully to never have another drink for as long he lived.   He was in an unfamiliar bed, with an unfamiliar source of heat beside him.  Tom cracked an eye open, and saw Phil’s curly head on the pillow next to his.  So this was Phil's flat and not unfamiliar at all- though it had been so long it felt that way. 

He didn’t know if it was paranoia or wishful thinking that made him look down to check if he and Phil were both decent.

Phil had on an old t-shirt and pajama bottoms, and he was lying on top of the covers while most of Tom was underneath them.  Only most, though- one of Tom’s arms was thrown out across Phil’s chest.  He checked under the covers just in case, and saw the same undershirt and boxers he had been in the night before.  He didn’t know why he bothered.  What had happened the night before was relatively obvious, after all.

Phil’s breath hitched and his eyes snapped open.  He always woke up like that, sudden and all at once.  He looked over at Tom and his mouth twitched, like he was trying not to laugh.

“Sorry,” Tom said, feeling the back of his neck heat.  He must have been in a pretty bad way, for Phil to take him home like this. 

Sure enough, Phil smirked and said, “You know, just because you can keep drinking without falling over doesn’t mean you _should_.”

Tom snorted, but apologized again.

Phil waved him off, but Tom still felt strange.  It hadn’t been too long ago that things were still rocky enough between them that he would’ve been lucky if Phil bothered to pour him into a cab and send him home that way.  This alone was probably more than he deserved, and yet it didn’t make him feel as good as signs of Phil thawing to him had in the past.

Maybe it was because of the club last night, or the club fifteen years ago, or the way they threatened to merge in his mind after he’d had a couple of drinks.  There had been good times after that first night, that first time he wondered if things could be different- good times with his job and with his girlfriend and even with Phil, but it all seemed tarnished in his memory by what came after.  By Frank Calvert.  By the blood on his hands and the bodies in his brain.  By the neverending stream of fights as he and his girlfriend realized that they wanted fundamentally different things out of their lives.  He had spent a lot of nights sleeping it off in Phil’s bed back then.

He remembered one of those, too, though Phil probably thought he didn’t: Phil got tired of helping him get undressed while he was plastered one night, so late it was almost morning, and finally hissed, “Are you gonna let that bastard ruin your life too?”

“You don’t know what it’s like,” Tom had slurred back. 

Phil had let him fall back against the wall and shot him this bruised look that- remembering as he did- Tom should have understood better all these years.  He should have known that just because Phil looked so collected, just because Phil always knew what to do next and never hesitated before he did it, Tom had still put something on his shoulders that he didn’t want and wouldn’t always be able to carry.

If Tom being such an idiot about that second set of murders hadn’t broken their friendship, that would have eventually.  But now they were friends again, for the most part, and Phil seemed as happy as he had in a long time.  So why couldn’t Tom just be happy about for him?  Why couldn't Tom let it be?

Before Tom could reach the inevitable answer to that question, Phil’s phone rang, shattering the quiet.

Tom knew that Phil normally gravitated to the middle of the bed, and naturally set his things on the right-hand bedside table.  But since Tom himself had ended up on the right...

“Sorry,” Phil said, leaning up and over Tom to reach for the phone.  He had showered after they got back the night before, and washed off most of the ultra-clean post-morgue smell, and now he mainly smelled like the shampoo he favored.  If Tom wanted to, he could bury his face in that hair and really take it in.  Phil got a grip on his phone and put it to his ear.  “Yeah?”  And suddenly he was smiling again.  “Yeah," he said again.  "Sure I did.”

That was, Tom thought darkly, the boyfriend’s smile.  Only maybe there was something new behind Phil’s eyes as he talked to the boyfriend, backing off just enough that his face was no longer only a couple of inches from Tom’s nose.  Maybe it was some kind of dissatisfaction, some sign that everything with Joe wasn’t actually all sunshine and roses.  Or maybe it was simply the general awkwardness of the situation.  It wasn’t every day, after all, that a man got a call from his boyfriend while he was in bed with his best friend.

Not that they had done anything.  Not that they ever-

“Went out with a friend,” Phil said.  Tom felt the back of his neck heat again. “Yeah,” Phil said.  Then, “You will.”

That made Tom feel even worse.  Phil was talking about him, wasn't he?  Phil was talking about Tom to Joe.  Taking about Tom _meeting_ Joe.  Phil had never introduced Tom to a guy before.  He had never-

“Right, yeah.  I'll see you then.  Bye.”

At least there wasn’t an _I love you_ , Tom caught himself thinking darkly.  There wasn’t even a _you too_.  So they weren’t there yet.  There was still time before-

Time before what, though?  Tom asked himself the question viciously.  Time before things with Joe got really serious?  And what- from his perspective- was that time good for?  What did he plan to do with it?

As Phil leaned over Tom a second time to return the phone to his bedside table, Tom’s heart was way up in his throat.  He felt like he was choking on it. 

“What about you?” Phil asked suddenly. 

Tom blinked.  “ _What_ about me?” 

“You seeing anyone?”

For a heartbeat Phil was close enough to kiss, close enough for Tom to count his eyelashes and rub their noses together if he liked.  It was... terrifying to want all of that and know it wouldn’t be welcome- not now, if indeed it ever would have been, if Phil could ever have seen him like that.  Tom shook his head.

Phil rolled back, lying against his pillow and gazing at his ceiling.  “What happened to that lady doctor, then?” he asked.

“She left.  She wanted to take her daughter somewhere... safer.”  It wasn’t precisely easy for someone like Anne Coburn to just pick up stakes and leave, so he had seen her a few times even after they had officially said their goodbyes.  It was awkward, but it didn’t hurt.

Not like his forearm brushing against Phil’s over the covers did.  Not like realizing what he truly wanted only now that there was nothing he could do about it did.

 *   *   *

Tom went home, he cleaned himself up, he went back to work.  A new case fell into his lap.  Life went on.

Sarah never mentioned the boyfriend, or what they had found- and not found- when they looked into him, but she still shot him a knowing look every now and again.  Tom wasn’t sure how much he liked that look, especially when the three of them- him, Sarah, and Phil- were gathered around a body and Tom’s breath would catch every time Phil brushed up against him, and Sarah would shoot him one of hers looks.  If they weren’t careful, Phil would start to think they were sleeping together or something.  

When Tom told her as much, Sarah thought that was _hilarious_.  “You need to tell him,” she said.

“Why?” Tom asked, glumly, one late night poring over grisly crime scene photos with her while Dave got some sleep on the nearby couch.  “And what would I say if I did?  ‘I know you’ve only ever seen me as a friend and I know I’ve been a crap one, but would you maybe dump this guy who clearly makes you happier than I ever did so we could give it a shot?’”

“Well.”  Sarah’s eyes glittered like she was laughing at him.  “You definitely aren’t selling it that way.”

“No,” he said, meaning: obviously.

“But you probably could another way if you tried.  I mean, he has put up with you all this time.  Couldn’t that mean there’s something there?”

“Oh, there’s something there all right.  It’s called frustration.”

“I don’t think so,” Sarah replied, and she was definitely laughing then.  “I think he loves you.”  She always talked about love in the slightly sharp manner of the disillusioned, but it sounded like she really believed it, all the same.

Tom snorted, but he didn’t entirely think she was wrong.  He was disillusioned too; so, probably, was Phil- but even when he was at his angriest Phil had tried to look out for Tom.  If that wasn’t love, Tom wasn’t sure what it was.  But love alone wasn’t always- or ever- enough to work miracles.

Sarah, judging by the way she rolled her eyes at her own words, was actually perfectly aware of that.

“That’s not all it takes though, is it?” Tom said, sadly.

“Maybe not,” Sarah agreed at last.

*   *   *

Tom made an arrest in their new case with relatively little fanfare.  Ruth congratulated him.  On his way out of the office that night, Tom noticed a missed call from Phil.  Phil had left a message congratulating him too, and asking if he wanted to get a drink to celebrate.  He’d said where he was going to be, so Tom didn’t see any need to call him back, he just headed that way. 

It was December by then, and _cold_.  Tom could see his own breath form little clouds on the air, and hear Christmas carols wafting from every shop doorway when he didn’t have his earbuds in.  Everything was wreaths and colored lights; that and his recent success made his less-than-cheerful mood of late stand out all the more.

It was just so ridiculous.  He was too old for this kind of thing.  His friendship with Phil was too old.  If Phil had ever seen him in any way but the platonic one, if Tom had ever had a shot with him, it was long past that now, surely.  And anyway, Phil was with someone. 

That brought Tom to a halt just outside the bar Phil had said he was patronizing.  What if Phil was _with_ someone?  What if he had asked the boyfriend to come out with him so he and Tom could finally meet?  Or what if he had invited him later, assuming that Tom himself wouldn’t be coming?

Tom just stared into the window of the place for a while.  He knew he would have to meet the boyfriend- Joe, he needed to think of him as Joe- eventually.  He might not want it to be now, but it would have to happen at some point, so wasn't now actually as good a time as any ?  He could face a killer, he could face this guy- and he didn’t even know for sure that he would actually be there.

Tom squared his shoulders and went inside.  

He found Phil alone at one of the back tables, nursing a bottle and watching all the people mingling beyond.  Tom had actually so worked himself up about the boyfriend being there that he scanned the room for him for several fruitless moments before Phil noticed and waved him over, looking half confused and half amused.

Tom went to him.  “Hey, Phil.”

“Who were you looking for?"

Tom could hardly answer that question honestly.  He sat down beside Phil and ordered something from a passing waitress.  “Just looking.”

Phil pulled a face.  But if that expression was about anything like jealousy at the thought of Tom looking for a potential hook-up, Phil hid it well.  Although, if he did ever feel that, he would have had plenty of time to practice hiding it over the years.  Tom just didn’t know.  Maybe he _couldn’t_ know.

When Tom got his beer, Phil raised his bottle in a toast.  “Congrats on the arrest.”

“Thanks,” Tom replied.  He felt awkward, aware of Phil physically in a way he hadn’t let himself be for a long time.  Hadn’t let himself because it had always been there on the air between them- something that... wasn’t quite friendship, and he had ignored it very well for a very long time.  For too long to do anything about it now.

“You all right?” Phil asked.  “You’ve seemed... off lately.”

Tom shrugged.

“No, really. It's not about the case, is it?  You don't think we got it wrong, or that there are really twelve killers, or-”

“No,” Tom said.  “I think it’s done.”

Phil looked like he had almost hoped that Tom would give him a different answer.  Why?  Tom wondered if it was possible that Phil missed their closeness while on a case as much as he sometimes did.  He wondered, too, if maybe Phil had wanted the distraction.  But if so, there would have to be something he wanted a distraction _from,_ and what could that be when everything was obviously going so well?  “There is something, though, isn’t there?”

“There’s something.”  Tom could admit that, even if he could hardly tell Phil what it was.  “What about you?”

Phil made a noise.  “ _What_ about me?” 

“How much have you had?”  The more Phil talked, the more Tom picked up little slurs in his speech.  And there was a drunken fluidity to his movements that Tom found oddly beautiful, even as he worried about him.  Worried that Phil had been drinking heavily while he waited, worried that he had some reason for it that he didn’t feel he could share with Tom.  Worried that it was to do with the boyfriend- not because he didn’t want them to have problems, but because he _did_.  Because there was an angry, possessive thing burning through his guts and he didn’t know what would become of him if it got what it wanted, even briefly. 

Phil shrugged.  “Nothing wrong with me.”  But then he leaned into Tom a little, his shoulder grazing Tom’s, and it didn't seem like the answer was so simple after all.

“Let’s get out of here,” Tom heard himself say.

Phil looked at him oddly, though it wasn’t that odd a thing to say in itself.  Tom always tried to get Phil to come home with him when he’d been drinking- especially when he was in a weird mood.  He hated it when Phil went on the pull- he always hated it, but he hated it most when Phil seemed like he was trying to patch something broken inside him up with it. 

Not that he _would_ go on the pull, even if he and the boyfriend were going through some kind of rough patch.  Tom didn’t know that from experience, of course, because Phil had never had a boyfriend to cheat on or not before.  But he was loyal, too loyal for his own good sometimes- and that Tom did know from experience.  He knew, too, that he had never cared for Phil’s taste in men.  James Calvert might have been the only serial killer he attached had himself to, however briefly- but dangerous?  Self-destructive?  Fucked up?  He found those in men all too often and quite frankly he seemed to like it.  Tom almost wanted to lie to himself and say that was why the boyfriend- however normal he appeared- set him so off balance, but of course it wouldn’t be true.  He would be bothered about him anyway.    

Back when he and Kevin Tughan were still partners, the three of them went out drinking once- an activity never to be repeated.  Kevin had never really got Phil, never really understood why Tom always turned to him when he needed someone. Someone to talk to, someone to bounce ideas off of, someone to help him make sense of things.  Someone to get him out of the worst trouble of his life. 

It wasn’t a gay bar that time, obviously- but Phil could always tell when a man was giving him the eye, however subtle.  And when he wandered off, Tom hadn’t been able to disguise his discomfort.

Kevin had been thrilled.  It had pleased him to no end, to think that Tom wasn’t actually as cool with Phil being gay as he seemed.  But Tom had always known that it wasn’t that.  It wasn’t some thinly disguised homophobia thing he managed to keep down except when Phil went home with another man.  He wanted Phil to come home with him.  He always had, and he always would, though it was only lately that he felt able to admit it to himself.  

“C’mon,” Tom said now, gripping Phil’s sleeve.

Phil shrugged and drained his bottle.  “Why not?” he said.  Tom kept close to him as he rose.  They were almost opposites in how they reacted to drink.  It took very little for Tom to get drunk- while Phil could keep drinking for ages without showing the smallest sign.  It was only when he got moving that he started to feel it- and when he felt it, he felt it enough to make Tom look sober by comparison. 

He staggered a little, and Tom caught him.  “Steady there, mate,” he said.

Phil’s hair brushed up against Tom’s jaw and he had to resist the urge to bury his face in it.  That temptation seemed constant, lately.

“C’mon,” Tom said again.

The cab ride was quiet.  Phil was ruminating, most likely.  He was a contemplative drunk- getting either belligerent or mournful on the other side of it.  And there was no way to know which it would be until he got there, either.

They arrived at the steps to Phil’s flat and Tom gripped his arm gently, tugging him toward the stairs.  They got up stairs and in the door without incident, and then Phil staggered again slightly.  Tom caught him with arms around his waist.  It was hard to breathe, suddenly.

“What’s been going on with you lately?” Phil asked.  He frowned at Tom.  “Did I ask you that already?”

“Yeah, Phil.  You did.”

His frown deepened.  “Did you tell me?”

“We don’t really talk much anymore, do we?"

Tom winced inwardly as soon as those words came out of his mouth.  At the end of the day, if there was friction between them, if things weren’t as they once were, it was no one’s fault but his own. 

“Sorry,” he said quickly.  “That was-”

Phil squirmed out of his grip, slumping back against the wall.  “I've wanted to stop being mad at you for nearly as long as I have been," he said, still frowning, his brows drawn sharply together.  “You were just doing your job, right?  Only-”

“It's not that simple.  I know.”  Tom did know, but he couldn’t help his wounded tone.  Whether it was because of what he wanted to do now- break up what looked like a perfectly good relationship to have Phil for himself- or because of what he had done before, he just didn’t want to lose Phil.

Phil’s face contorted.  “Just when I thought you couldn’t fuck me up any more.”

It was difficult, with Phil's voice so low, to tell if he was saying any _more_ or anymore.  Tom wasn’t sure which implication seemed worse to his ears- that even before everything that happened during the James Calvert case he had thought things couldn’t get worse, or that he had once convinced himself that he was done with Tom altogether.

Phil slid down the wall, landing with his elbows on his knees.  Tom crouched beside him.  “I’m sorry,” he said again.  He knew as he said it- as a part of him must have known it all this while- that it wasn’t enough.  Still, he hoped that somehow, this time, it would be.

Phil’s face contorted.  “I know you are,” he said.  “You were sorry when you said it.”

Tom had been sorry, but he’d still believed it, and as much as he wanted it to that wasn’t going to go away.  And Phil looked so miserable.  Tom wanted to kiss his eyelids, his nose, the place where his cheek dimpled as his mouth twisted into that unhappy smile.  Tom was aware that this wouldn’t be the right time, if there was a right time for it at all, which there wasn’t.  But he could at least- “Can I touch you?”

Phil eyed him uncertainly.  It wasn’t a question often asked between them.  It wasn’t a question that often needed to be.  He nodded jerkily.

Tom reached out and cupped the back of Phil’s neck to draw him closer and hold on to him.  It was an awkward sort of hug, with both of them on the floor like that- but it also felt better than anything had in a very long time.  Phil was all hard angles and he always had been, but all Tom wanted to have him close and keep him there.

Forever, if at all possible. 

"I've really missed you," he said, quietly.  If nothing else he could trust that Phil was unlikely to remember that, or indeed any of this- including Tom's face pressed up against the side of his head, and Tom's hands cradling his shoulders- in the morning.

"I miss you too," Phil replied.

And that was... well.  That was something, wasn't it? 

 *   *   *

Tom maintained that it hadn’t been so silly, to think that things with Phil were back to normal- or at least that they would be soon- directly after the James Calvert case was closed.

Paramedics had raced James out of the room. Tom had followed slower, lingering in the hallway as the commotion slowly died down.  He wasn't sure how much of what happened he had even processed at that point.  He knew only that nothing had been said outright, that Kevin was in there with Ruth still, conversing in raised voices, and when they came out either he or Tom would be fired or transferred- which of them, Tom couldn’t say.  Not yet.

Kevin had come out next, and from the way he moved, the hunted look he shot Tom on the way, he was out.  Probably Tom would have to take a vacation, but he’d be all right.  Unfortunately there was too much else going on for him to be properly grateful for it.

Indeed, he was so occupied with these thoughts that he didn’t notice Phil at first.  He settled at Tom’s side, back to the wall again, and eventually Tom turned and tried to smile at him.

Phil winced a little, looking back  It actually took Tom a moment to realize why.

Phil lifted a hand, touching Tom’s bruised jaw carefully.  “You didn’t take care of that,” he murmured.  “I guess I thought that doctor of yours might’ve...”  He shook his head, like a nervous tic, like he was trying to expel a thought with sharpness of it.  “I _am_ sorry.”

Tom swallowed.  “ _I’m_ sorry.  Phil-”

“I know,” Phil replied.  “You said.”  He sort of squinted at Tom, like the light in the hall was too bright for his eyes suddenly.

He _had_ said, but Phil obviously- and rightly- hadn’t been ready to hear him. at the time  “I never should have...”  Tom trailed off.  That should have been his first clue that just being sorry wouldn’t be enough.  Because he hadn’t even known what to say he never should have done, when to say he began to go wrong that whole awful week.

His second clue should have been Phil’s expression.  There had been amusement in his squint, with something hollowed out beneath it.  But he had been looking like that since what James Calvert did in the interview room, so Tom had dismissed it, assumed the horror of it all was just too fresh, assumed everything would be all right again soon.

He should have known better. 

*   *   *

Tom had always liked Phil’s place better than his own.  Even after he had a new flat and a new opportunity to actually make it look like a home, he had mostly just missed Phil’s. At one time he had known his way around as well as if he did live there- and he remembered enough still to make himself useful on a morning like this, when Phil was hungover and in a correspondingly foul mood.

“Did I do anything stupid last night?” Phil shouted at Tom from his bathroom as he brushed his teeth.

Tom, in the kitchen trying to decide what Phil would best be able to stomach for breakfast in his current state, considered asking Phil what exactly something stupid would have been, but he decided he didn’t want to know.  What if it was making a pass at someone?  What if it was making a pass at _Tom_?  “No,” he said instead.  “You just asked what was going on with me a lot.”

As he answered, Tom wandered down the hall.  He poked his head into the bedroom just in time to see Phil, still in the bathroom, grimace and spit in the sink.  “Did you tell me?”

If Phil had any idea that he had asked that question once before, he gave no sign of it.

Tom shrugged.

“Don’t you have anywhere else to be?” Phil asked as he stuck his toothbrush back into his mouth.

“Not really,” Tom replied, conjuring a smile.

Phil gave a kind of grunt and spat again.  Tom returned to the kitchen.  If he’d had time, he might have gone out for pastries or the like- but as it was he just made a little toast and poured Phil a cup of coffee the way he liked it.

He couldn’t decide whether to laugh or curse himself for taking such care.  This was hardly a morning after, after all.  But Phil had spent many mornings in this flat, looking after Tom when he was hardly in a better state himself.  The least Tom could do now was return the favor. 

Phil came out, accepted the coffee and toast with a slightly wan smile, and watched Tom for a while in silence.  He clearly wasn’t done asking questions, though Tom didn’t yet have a good answer.

He tried not to be too relieved when his phone rang.  “We’ve got a body,” Dave said, without further chit-chat.

Tom glanced over at Phil, who was still watching him with lifted eyebrows over the lip of his cup.  No call for Phil, which meant somebody else from Phil’s office would be handling this one.  Tom hated working with other pathologists.  He put on a smile anyway.  “No rest for the wicked, eh?”

Phil saluted him with his coffee.

*   *   *

Tom preferred working with Phil for a lot of reasons.  Especially after their falling out, Phil liked to pretend he clocked in, clocked out, and left his work at work- but he never did.  And he was smart- smarter than Tom, in a lot of ways.  Quite frankly it was at least half luck, whenever Tom managed to solve a case without him.

He solved this one.  It was a bizarre accident, as it turned out- not much glory in solving it, just a chance to give answers to people who were hurting- and he wrapped it up just in time for Christmas to really get going. 

He went to one of the office holiday parties mainly because he had heard that Phil would be there and he just... he wanted to see him.  He had seen too little of him over the course of this case.  Tom knew that he could have called Phil in that time, but what would he have said?  _I feel strange, now, when I don’t see you?_ If he was lucky, Phil would take it to mean Tom needed help with his case.  If he wasn’t, Phil would work out the truth and then there would really be trouble.

Now and then, Tom did entertain a little fantasy that Phil would be happy if he worked out the truth, but such fantasies mostly shuddered to a halt before they even got going.  There was no way that was ever going to happen.  Tom had been over it too many times.  There was just no way Phil could want him that way- not without either giving up by now, or doing something about it.   

But Tom still shuddered faintly- and pleasantly- at the mere thought of it.  Of Phil cornering and kissing him, looking him right in the eye and asking if he wanted Phil to do it again.  How quickly would Tom have melted, if Phil ever had?  How deeply would he have kissed Phil back?  How different would things be now?

Tom shook off these thoughts as pointless and squared his shoulders as he stepped out of the elevator.

The lights around the offices were dimmed, as they usually were at night.  There were fairy lights strung up here and there, and there were little Christmas trees on a few desks.  Tom almost wanted to turn around and get back in the elevator, but instead he scanned the room for Phil.

He caught Ruth’s eye instead.

She smiled and crossed to him.  “Good work on your last case,” she told him.

“It wasn’t a very exciting result, was it?”

“I’ve had about my fill of excitement, if I’m honest.”

Tom snorted out a laugh.

“Your team wondered if you’d be coming.”  Ruth nodded their way.  Sarah and Dave were talking, close but not too close together.  As far as Tom knew, Dave had made things right with his wife and he and Sarah were now just friends and colleagues- but Tom was still a little leery of them in a social setting.  Still, as long as they were both content, he was happy for them.

“Is Phil here?” he asked.

Ruth looked a little knowing.  “I think he went up to the roof for some air.”

Tom nodded, bid her good night, and headed that way.  As he went, he caught a glimpse of Ruth shaking her head and laughing softly.  He decided not to think too much about what she might find so funny. 

It was cold up on the roof, cold enough to make Tom wish he had a little to drink before heading up there, but the sky was clear and Phil had his elbows propped up on the railing and his face tilted back against the light wind. Tom didn't think alcohol would have helped him much with that sight.

Phil had his eyes shut, and he hadn't opened them before he said, “Tom.”

It was pretty obvious that Phil was alone out there, but Tom still found himself glancing around as if Phil's boyfriend was going to pop out from behind something any minute.  “You didn’t bring- uh- Joe, did you say his name was?- with you tonight?”

“You actually thought I’d bring him here?” Phil asked.  He opened his eyes, laughing softly at the pained look on Tom’s face.  He relented.  “We broke up.”

Tom blinked at him, immediately torn between relief and sorrow.  “When?”

“A while ago now.”

Tom cast his memory back over the last while and, after a moment, finally fixed on a time that felt right.  “It was that night after I closed my case, wasn’t it? When you were already drunk when I got there?”

Phil nodded.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

That time Phil shrugged.  “I didn’t want to talk about it, you know?”  Tom could feel himself scowling, and Phil laughed.  It sounded a little bitter, but mostly genuine.  “It’s all right.  It’s... it's for the best.”

Tom's frown only deepened.  “But you said he was nice.”

“He was.”  Phil scuffed his shoe against the concrete.  “He _is_.  I’m not."

Tom’s expression must have gone truly thunderous from there.  And he felt accordingly- Phil was amazing, and if the now-mercifully-ex-boyfriend had made him feel otherwise...

“I don’t mean-” Phil cut himself off.  “ _Tom_.”  He got hold of Tom’s sleeve like he thought Tom would track Joe down and throttle him if Phil didn’t hang onto him tightly, which- well, Tom wasn’t sure that he wouldn’t.  “I get called out all hours for dead bodies, and if that’s not bad enough I come in on my own time to help you with cases as well.”

“I’m-” Tom started to apologize, he supposed. 

“I’m not blaming you,” Phil cut him off quickly, which was good because Tom wasn't sure he would be able to finish.  Wasn't sure he could really sound sorry for what was, ultimately, their life together.  “It's me, yeah?  I come when you call because I want to.  Always.  I like helping.  But I’m... morbid.  And I’m checked out half the time thinking about work.  I’m not... I’m not a catch.  And I know that.  And it was fun for a while, with Joe, but it was never really gonna last.  Because as great as he was, he still thought I’d change.  And I’m much too old for that.”  He gave a slightly weird laugh that made Tom think he wasn’t anywhere near as casual about it as he wanted to seem and then he added, “Also he thought- never mind.”

“What did he think?” Tom asked immediately.

Phil shook his head, so jerky and sharp it was more like a nervous tick than anything else.  “Doesn’t matter.”

“I bet it does,” Tom said, surer the more Phil denied it.

Phil’s tongue flickered out over his lips, a habit that lately made Tom’s mouth water.  “If you tell me what’s going on with you,” he said finally, “I’ll tell you what he thought.”

“All right,” Tom said.  He found he meant it.  As much as he had thought about how to hide this lately, he also knew that keeping it secret would wear him down eventually, and something about the night, and the distant Christmas music coming from inside the building, made it feel like tonight might as well be the night.  Their friendship had survived covering up a murder, and survived- narrowly- Tom thinking Phil might be a killer.  They could survive this.  “I’ve been off because- because I’ve been jealous.”

Phil made a kind of choking noise.  “Because of Joe?”  It didn’t really sound like a question, but of course the timing was too right for him to think anything else.  “Because I found someone?”

Tom winced, though he knew he should have seen that coming as well.  “No.  Because someone found you.”

Phil backed up as though he had been physically struck.  He scrubbed a hand over his face and when he uncovered it the blank, almost innocent, look of confusion that lay beneath was startlingly beautiful.  He backed all the way up into one of the outer walls of the police station and Tom followed him, laying his hand on the cool stone beside Phil's head.

“Look, Phil, I- shit.”

Phil’s eyes widened and he looked amused.  “What?”

Tom wasn’t looking at Phil’s face anymore, but rather a little way above his head, where someone had pinned a sprig of mistletoe to the wall.  Tom thought Sarah was the most likely culprit- she knew exactly what had been going on with him lately, and she knew he often ended up on the roof- but it was Ruth who had directed him here.  Was it a conspiracy, then? 

Did he care?  Not if it meant-

Phil followed his gaze.  “There’s nobody else here,” he said, swallowing heavily.  “There's no reason to-”

But he didn’t try to get out from under it, and though he mostly seemed confused he hadn’t really reacted _badly_ to what Tom had told him.  So maybe- maybe he could-

He lifted his other hand, touching Phil’s face, and still Phil didn’t make any move to put distance between them.  Tom thought about how Phil would sometimes have to get up on his toes to get in Tom’s face.  He might not have been retreating now, but he wasn’t helping either and Tom had to really bend to get closer to him.  It made him want to sit Phil up on something in order to get a better angle, but he didn’t think that would be appreciated.  Phil liked to be the one doing any manhandling.  Tom suspected he would be the same way in the bedroom.

Tom thought about that, and then he had to remind himself to stop thinking about it.  Phil was- maybe- going to let Tom kiss him.  That hardly guaranteed anything else.

So if this was all he might get, he intended to make the most of it. 

He lifted Phil’s chin carefully and met his lips.  They were a little chapped and chilled from the cool air, but they were soft with surprise- that Tom had actually kissed him, probably- and Tom liked how they gave way ever-so-slightly, letting him taste what Phil had been drinking- a mulled wine, by the tang of it.  Tom moved his hand a little, smoothed his thumb across Phil’s jaw and let his fingers curl around Phil’s skull and into his hair.

Phil made a soft noise against Tom’s lips and his own hands lifted, coming to rest on Tom’s chest.  For a second he thought Phil might be about to push him away- but then Phil’s fingers wrapped around his jacket lapels and actually pulled him closer instead.

Tom obediently stayed close, even after he finally broke the kiss, his forehead rubbing against Phil’s.

“He thought I was in love with you,” Phil said, his voice much lower and gravellier than normal.

It took Tom a minute to understand what he was talking about, which question Phil was even answering.  And then he did understand, and he asked, “Was he right?”

Phil made a sort of growling noise.  “He never even met you.  He just knew that you existed and he...” Phil looked up at Tom with something very sharp in his gaze.  “Of course he was right.”  He knocked his head- not hard, happily- back against the wall.  “It’s such a fucking cliché, isn’t it?”

Tom didn’t particularly care if it was or not.  He grinned, a little stupidly.

Phil squinted at him like that grin was over-bright sunshine.  “You know what I said about being me too old to change?  Well.  You’re definitely too old to have your university experimentation phase.”

“I already did that, Phil.  In university.”

Phil blinked at him for a second, processing.  “How did I not know that?”

“Never really came up, I suppose,” Tom replied.  “You can be as bad about assuming people are straight as anyone, you know.”  And it really hadn’t seemed important all that time.  Mostly Tom liked women.  Mostly women liked him.  But it wasn’t as if he’d never gotten an appreciative look at one of the clubs he met with Phil in and thought, _maybe_.  It just never seemed worth actually acting on when he was so busy with other things.  Joe thinking Phil was in love with Tom aside, the reasons Phil gave for why such a relationship was unlikely to work out long term were very familiar.  Which was why it might be different for them, if they were willing to give it a try.  

Phil looked a little like his world had just been rocked, but also still pretty skeptical.  “Don’t do this ‘cos you had a fit of possessiveness, Tom.”

Tom thought about asking what ‘this’ was, but he knew exactly.  He pressed a kiss to Phil’s forehead, his temple.  “Why would you rather I do it?  Because I’m in love with you too?”  Tom didn’t think he would have been able to say that if Phil hadn’t said it first, but it felt good.  It felt really, really good.

Phil made a soft whining noise.  “I just had a breakup,” he said.  “And I really have mostly forgiven you for before.  Maybe more than I think I should have.  But-”

He cut himself off, then, but the look he was giving Tom told him everything he needed to know.  “But you need some time to think about this,” Tom said.

Phil nodded.

Tom kissed his temple again.  “I guess that means you don’t want me to kiss you again for a while.”

Phil was silent for just a moment, then- “Well.  You could do it one more time.”

It ended up being more than one time. 

*   *   *

Later they went back inside, trying hard not to look like they had just been snogging on the roof.  They probably failed, but between the people who had always thought there was something going on between them, and the people who either knew like Sarah or suspected like Ruth that something had recently changed, pretty much only Dave looked at all surprised.

They went home separately that night, but Phil had agreed to see Tom on Christmas.  It was an old tradition of theirs, one they had skipped the year before in all that pain and friction.

Tom was looking forward to it, even knowing that Phil might not be done with his thinking by then.  It would be enough to be with him, even if it would be nicer to be _with him_. 

But Phil was right.  This thing between them was too important to put at risk by rushing into it while Phil was still raw.

Tom was willing to wait.  How could he not be, once Phil had said he’d been in love with him?  However long Tom might have to wait, Phil had already waited a lot longer, and with a lot less reason to believe anything would come of it. 

Christmas Eve was a quiet one for Tom, usually.  Phil would typically show up sometime closer to afternoon on Christmas day, so there wasn’t much for Tom to do the night before.  He talked to his dad, who was off visiting the niece and nephew Tom hardly saw, and went through his takeaway menus, thinking about what he wanted to eat.  Nothing really appealed. 

He was sitting on his couch, and he had to unfold himself to get up when he heard someone buzz to be let in.

“Yeah?” Tom asked.

“You as bored up there as I think you are?” Phil asked.

“Yeah.”  Tom grinned and buzzed him up.

Phil arrived laden with bags, most of them filled with takeaway, and he glanced around Tom’s flat as if he thought he might find something different than he did when he arrived. 

“What?” Tom asked.

Phil shrugged.  “Just would've been awkward, if you’d had people over.”

What ‘people’ those might have been Tom didn’t know, but it didn’t really matter since Phil was there now.  “I would’ve preferred you, anyway.”

Phil, setting his bags on the kitchen counter, gave Tom an odd look briefly and then went to the fridge.   

“That was sappy, wasn’t it?”  Tom laughed and shoved his hands into his pockets.  “I just- maybe you were a little bit right, before.  I did have a fit of possessiveness.  And I tried to tell myself I was just worried about you, but it wasn’t true.  I was supposed to be happy that you were happy, and I wasn’t.  ‘Cos I wanted you to be happy with me.  And I’m not... confused or anything, not because of that.  I feel like I’ve never been surer in my life.”

Since Phil was still over by the fridge Tom said most of that to his back, which he figured had made it easier.  Not that it would ever be easy, putting himself out there like that- but he was trying.  Not just because he wanted more from Phil than he already had, but also because of what he had almost lost.  There were so many things he should have said to Phil over the years, so many things that should have been asked and answered between them all this time instead of locked away inside, and Tom didn’t intend to make that mistake again.

Phil finally turned around with two beers in his hands and his eyes very full.  "I knew you wouldn’t have people over,” he said.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.  You’re predictable, Tom Thorne.”

If he was, Tom didn’t think that could possibly be a bad thing.  They had known each other for such a long time- which meant that whatever did happen between them would be very unlike all their other ultimately short-lived relationships.  There were no nasty surprises about what the other was like waiting for them, no expectations of change.  He knew Phil, and he knew he wasn’t perfect.  He was messy and angry and it didn’t matter because Tom was all that and more.  And they both made mistakes and they had both hurt each other in the past, but together they still fit.  Together they were better men.  It could only be a good sign for both of them to be a little predictable, at least to each other.

But surely _this_ had come as a little bit of a surprise.  Phil had clearly thought he didn’t stand a chance with Tom all this time- as incredible as it was to think so now.  He had clearly thought Tom would never want _this_.  

“Am I?” Tom asked finally.  He settled close to Phil as he opened the bottles, close enough to nuzzle Phil’s temple and bring to Phil’s attention- if it wasn't already there- that he definitely, definitely did want it.

Judging from Phil’s airy laugh, it did the trick.  He caught Tom’s gaze and then held it as he drew away from him, walking backwards towards the couch.  And the way he was looking at Tom made it feel like this withdrawal wasn’t a withdrawal at all, not really, so Tom collected some of Phil’s takeaway cartons and followed him. 

Phil set both of the bottles he was carrying down on the low table in front of the couch and Tom did the same thing with the takeaway cartons.  Phil, he noticed as he sat down, had ordered all of his favorite things.  Phil joined Tom on the couch, sort of sprawled out against the cushions, and lifted his beer.  “Merry Christmas,” he said.

Tom toasted him and agreed.

There was a good view of Tom’s Christmas tree- a scraggly little thing- from the couch.  It made Tom wish he had taken more time with it.  Sure enough, Phil whistled and said, “It’s a good thing I brought more decorations.”

Tom glanced back toward the kitchen, where the non-takeaway bags that Phil had brought sat still. 

“Dinner first,” Phil said.  

Tom nodded and picked up a carton.  It was nice, sitting together like this.  It was nice how Phil spread out on Tom's couch like it was his too.  Tom felt a little bad that not too long ago he would have been entirely content to just have Phil with him, to just know that they really were friends again.  He wondered if he wasn’t being greedy, if he hadn’t rushed things, if he hadn’t made a mistake. 

Oh, he wanted Phil.  The heat in his gut as Phil shot him a smile and sipped his beer... that was unmistakable.  But the ground under his feet wasn’t so sure.  What would Phil do when- perhaps if- he came to a decision?  Where would they be then?  It could be so much better, Tom was sure of that, but what if it could also be worse?  Tom didn’t know what he would do if he lost Phil again.  He didn’t know what he would do if he even came close. 

“Not hungry?” he heard Phil ask.

Tom blinked and found that Phil was much nearer to him than he had been.  Tom must have been truly lost in his thoughts. 

Phil took the carton, barely tasted, from his hand gently and set it back on the table.

“Sorry,” Tom said.

“Don’t be,” Phil replied.  “It’s reheatable, isn’t it?”  He sighed.  “I just worry about you sometimes.  Maybe I shouldn't have left you time to stew.”  He didn't elaborate on that remark- he just reached out, taking Tom by the hand and tugging him up and toward the tree. 

Tom settled as close to him beside it as he could.  He took a deep breath, fingers still wrapped around Phil's.  He knew why Phil worried.  It wasn’t like Tom had never driven him to.  “I really am glad you’re here,” he said, resolved to act like it and stop wringing his hands over things that hadn't happened yet.  He squeezed Phil's hand once more before he let go, heading back to the kitchen and cracking open one of Phil’s other bags.  The ornaments inside it were ugly, brightly colored and kitschy.  “Beautiful,” Tom declared, lifting one. 

Phil snorted.

"I mean it,” Tom insisted, then, “It’s hideous but I love it.”

“Right answer,” Phil replied, laughing.

Tom brought the bags over to the tree.  He hung the ornament he had in his hand and then looked back down at Phil, who had sat himself cross-legged on the floor to go through the others. 

Tom sat down beside him.  “This one next,” Phil said, lifting an ornament even worse than the last.

Rather than get back up, Tom hung it low on the tree from where he sat.

Phil’s mouth twitched like he was trying not to laugh for a moment, and then he finally did laugh.  They continued in that vein for a while, Phil handing him ornaments until every part of the tree Tom could reach from where he sat was covered and every part he couldn’t was more or less bare.  Phil tried and failed not to laugh every time he looked at it.  “I’ll get up,” Tom finally, reluctantly, said.  He just liked it down there with Phil.

“Wait.”  Phil was close, and he got closer suddenly, gripping Tom’s arm before he could actually get up.

“Yeah?” Tom asked, feeling like something was fluttering around in his guts.  Still smiling faintly, Phil leaned up and kissed him.

Tom returned heavily to the floor. 

Phil reached up to touch Tom’s face as he kissed him again.  Tom had thought about how much he would like to kiss Phil again so many times that night that he wanted, now, to give himself up to it without another thought.  But-

He drew back, just a little, just enough to look at Phil properly.

“I thought you needed to think,” he said.

Phil’s eyes glittered, pretty in the light reflected off the tree.  “I can think and do this at the same time.”

That was nice for Phil, Tom thought- because when their lips met again he didn’t think _he_ could.  Nor, after a moment, did he care.

Phil tasted like the beer he had been drinking, and his mouth was very warm, not cold like it had been when Tom kissed him on the roof the other night.  That he was a really good kisser- firm without being rough, present but not overeager- though, that hadn’t changed.

Eventually- it could have been just a few moments later, it could have been a few hours, Tom honestly wasn’t sure how to tell anymore- Phil’s hand slid down his neck and shoulders- a slow, hot drag to his shirt buttons. 

“All right?” he asked against Tom’s lips.

“Yeah,” Tom said, breathlessly, as he realized what Phil was asking.  “Yeah.”

Phil had to shift positions a little to start unbuttoning Tom’s shirt, and he did exactly that, still kissing him at the same time.  He got the shirt loose from Tom’s trousers and his hand grazed across Tom’s skin the moment he had enough of it barred to touch.

Tom’s head rolled back when he gasped, breaking the kiss.

“All right?” Phil asked again. 

It had been a while now since anyone touched him, longer still since it felt so good, but Tom didn’t think this was the time or the place for that admission, so he just nodded.

Phil took his time, pressing light kisses to the line of Tom’s throat as he touched him, hand sliding down Tom’s chest and grazing across his stomach.  He kept going until his finger slipped just underneath Tom’s waistband, and then he backed off a little to catch Tom’s eye.  He didn’t ask if it was all right again; he didn’t have to, the question was written all over his face.

Tom sucked in a breath.  He held Phil’s gaze and dropped his hand, laying it over Phil’s.  For a second he just stayed like that, looking at him, touching his hand, then he steered it, gently, the rest of the way down.

From the way Phil’s eyes widened fractionally as he touched Tom through his trousers, he hadn’t expected that.  Tom saw it, saw everything that went across Phil’s face, because he forced his own eyes to stay open even when the pressure of Phil’s palm against him made them threaten to drift shut.  Why was Phil so surprised?  Had he thought Tom would back out the second things started to get heavy?  Had he thought Tom wouldn’t actually be hard for him?  Had he still believed this was just a whim and nothing more?  Whatever Phil had thought, though, it was gone in a flash- and he caught Tom’s lips again, kissing him fiercely.

Tom lifted both hands again to hang on to him, cradling the back of his skull and touching his hair as Phil’s tongue slid over his.  Phil’s hand, though, stayed right where it was at first, just applying pressure.  Then he moved that too, leaving Tom bereft until clever fingers went to work on his belt, jerking it free and undoing his buttons and zip to get him out. 

Tom groaned against Phil’s lips and probably pulled his hair terribly at the feel of those fingers on his bare cock at last- not that Phil minded one bit, if the way his grip tightened was anything to judge by. 

And Phil... really knew what he was doing.  It wasn't much of a surprise that he knew just how to touch a man to absolutely wring him out, but it still made Tom’s breath come heavy and shallow around his kisses. 

“Hey,” he managed finally.  “Hey.”  He held Phil’s hair just firmly enough to keep Phil from kissing him again, because if he did that Tom wouldn’t be able to talk.  Worse, he wouldn’t want to.  And the time for certain admissions had finally come.  “It’s been a... a while.”

Phil’s expression was complicated, amused and aroused and surprised and sweet all at once.  “Does that mean what I think it means?” he asked. 

“Probably,” Tom managed.  He couldn’t do much else, because Phil still hadn’t released him, or let up stroking him at all.  Tom had never had a handjob that felt like this, and that was because he had been alone for a long time, sure, but also because Phil really knew what he was doing- and also because it was _Phil_.

Phil’s eyes darkened and he still didn’t stop.  He just kept looking dead into Tom’s eyes and stroking him deliberately.

What Phil wanted was pretty obvious by then, but Tom still made himself say, “I wouldn’t want to disappoint you.”  He had a feeling that going off like a teenager during a handjob wouldn't be very impressive.

“You couldn’t,” Phil said quietly, earnestly.  So far Phil hadn’t said much about what he felt, and what he said had been a litttle like pulling teeth, but the way he was looking at Tom in that moment, the intensity in his eyes, in his touch, in his voice... it brought Tom right over the edge.

He kept his eyes open for as long as he could, but they fell shut as he came, and in the throes of it he felt Phil lean in and kiss his forehead.

After that Tom rallied enough to catch his lips and kiss him.  Phil kissed him back, once, twice, three times, and then broke away to get a few tissues off the table to wipe his hand.

“Sorry,” Tom said, despite what Phil had just told him.

Phil’s smile was warm as he shook his head.  “Don’t be,” he said.  “I’m just getting started with you, you know.”

“I hope you don’t mean tonight.”

Phil still didn’t look surprised or bothered at all, but he did look wry as he said, “If you hadn’t left it so late, we could’ve been a lot younger.  Better recovery time, and all that.”

“Yeah,” Tom said, and he did regret it, sometimes.  All that time things could have been different between them, if he’d just known what he wanted earlier.  But sometimes... sometimes he didn’t regret it.  Sometimes he thought maybe things had to go this way for him to really understand Phil, to really understand what was between them.  He touched Phil’s arm and squeezed lightly.

Phil’s soft look sharpened into something a lot hungrier.  “I am sorry I missed your experimental phase, though.”

“You get this phase,” Tom said.  “Much less clumsy.”  And less of a phase, of course, but Tom didn’t see the need to disrupt banter with that.  If Phil didn’t know it already, he would figure it out in time.   He would figure everything out in time- Tom was suddenly sure of it. 

“Is that right?” Phil asked, teasing, as he tossed the tissue he’d used into the bin way over in the kitchen.

“Absolutely,” Tom replied without blinking.

“Now I really wish I’d seen it.”  Phil got closer again to kiss Tom some more. 

“You would've teased me so much,” Tom said between kissing him back. 

“Probably,” Phil agreed, his eyes dancing like stars.  “As I think I mentioned earlier- I’m not that nice of a guy.”

And Tom could tell that Phil was still joking around with him, that his mood was still light, but there was something else underneath his words that sounded a little bit darker.  Like a warning.  Tom let his hands come up to grip Phil’s forearms, gently pulling him closer and knocking their foreheads together.  “I know exactly what you are,” Tom said, and he kissed Phil for a while before gently pressing him backward. 

Phil hit the rug with a look caught somewhere between amusement and awe.  The lights were shining on his face and Tom reached out to trace the line of his cheek.

“I know exactly what you are,” Tom said again.  Then, “Can I-” he started, not really sure what he was even asking.

And Phil said, “I should hope so,” with humor still on his face but a lot _more_ in his eyes.

Tom settled on top of him, being extra careful even though he knew Phil was in no way fragile, and kissed him some more, stroking a hand over his forehead and sucking on his tongue.  He shifted a little, just enough to feel Phil against him- all of Phil.  And if he’d been worried that Phil had been so laid back so far because he actually wasn’t that interested, because he wasn’t hard, those worries were immediately put to rest.

Tom shifted a little more, just enough to put pressure, and Phil groaned into his mouth.  It was a gorgeous sound that Tom was deeply looking forward to hearing more of.  For a while he just rocked and kissed Phil, but eventually he wanted to do more.

He reached down, in between them, and Phil made another noise against his lips, drawing his head back.  “That probably would’ve done it for me,” he said quietly.

Tom didn’t believe him.  “You’re just trying to make me feel better about a minute ago.”

“Maybe,” Phil said, eyes darker than Tom had ever seen them.  “But... I’ve thought about you.  So much.”

Tom couldn’t believe that not so long ago he had been bothered by how little Phil had said about how he felt.  That little suddenly felt like far too much, and Tom caught his mouth in another fierce kiss. 

Phil had jeans on, the fabric rough against Tom’s palm as he rubbed Phil’s cock, and Tom released his lips and cock only to ruck up his shirt and then pull it over his head altogether.  He had seen Phil shirtless plenty of times, but it was... different now.  Because Tom could look at him now without violently quashing any kind of hunger.

He reached out, tracing the spiraling shape of a tattoo along Phil’s arm up to the slender line of his shoulder, and then down across the sparse hair on his chest.  He liked the feel of it under his fingers, and judging from the way Phil’s breath stuttered he liked it too.  So Tom worked further down still, touching the slightly soft plane of his stomach before reaching his waistband.

He wasn’t as smooth about it as Phil had been.  His fingers shook as he undid the button, then the zip, and pushed them down over Phil’s hips.  He did the same with Phil’s pants and then-

“Don’t get scared,” Phil said.  He caught one of Tom’s hands, and though his tone was teasing his touch was tender.

“I’m not scared,” Tom replied.  It was just... intense.  Even more so than he had imagined, and he had imagined it would be pretty intense.  His mind was still a little mushy and buzzing from his orgasm, and what he’d found on the other side of it was sort of amazing.  “I told you, I really have done this before.”

He reached out, taking Phil in hand to prove it.  He probably didn’t have anywhere near Phil’s panache, but judging from the noise Phil made that didn’t really matter.  “How much-” Phil’s breath caught as Tom stroked him.  “How much _have_ you done?”

“A fair amount,” Tom said, not sure now whether he was reassuring or apologizing.  It was stupid, and even in his new spirit of talking to Phil about what he could whenever he could he had no intention of saying it out loud, but if he’d known Phil would be there with him in the end, would want him too, he might have tried to wait.

Of course, given how long they had taken about it, that would have been quite the wait. 

“You don’t-” he hesitated. 

What was he going to say? _You don’t mind?_ What could be done about it if he did?  He was just so worried, suddenly, that Phil _would_ mind. 

“It’s a _thing_ , isn’t it?” 

“Where did you get that idea?” Phil asked.  A smile grew on his face, one that hiccupped a little every time Tom’s hand moved.  “Porn?”

“Might have done,” Tom replied. 

Such as he could, Phil rolled his eyes.  “All right, yeah,” he said finally. “It is a thing.  You know, sucking some straight guy’s cock so good he’s ruined for life or whatever.”

Tom snorted.  “Not straight,” he reminded Phil.  “And anyway, I was thinking about that the other way around.”

Phil’s eyes widened faintly, but Tom didn’t waste a lot of time enjoying it.  He had other things to enjoy.

He hadn’t been bad at this, he remembered- and though it had been a while since university he didn’t think he had forgotten the basics.

And maybe he rushed a little, sliding down to the level of Phil’s cock and getting his mouth around it.  Phil certainly swore like he had- Phil didn’t shy from bad language normally, but Tom couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard such a long string of expletives in a row- but also like it wasn’t a bad thing.  Tom just wanted to fast forward through the last bit of Phil thinking Tom would get a face full of cock and change his mind about all this because that- that was _not_ happening. 

The minute he had his lips around Phil’s cock, the back of his throat ached for more.  There, though, he decided not to rush.  He savored, flattening his tongue out against the underside.  Phil had showered before he got there- was it because he thought, or maybe hoped, exactly this would happen?  Tom liked to think so- but the scent and smell of him was incredibly strong up close.

Tom didn’t suck at first, because he was still getting used to the stretch of Phil in his mouth, and because the noises Phil was making- once he ran out of curses, Phil seemed to run out of words altogether- made it seem like just being in Tom’s mouth was enough for him.  Finally, though, he did suck, and he readjusted his position little by little until it was easier to get Phil further into his mouth.  Then he opened his eyes, looking up and toward Phil. 

Phil was leaned back on the rug, his head tilted and his back slightly arched.  Tom gave him another suck and Phil’s head came back up, slow, like he was forcing himself to, and when he did he caught Tom’s gaze with eyes as dark as Tom had ever seen them. 

“Jesus,” he said, quietly, and the heat of his gaze and the gravel of his voice made Tom groan.  Judging from the expression on Phil’s face that felt good too, and looking at it made Tom tired, suddenly, of looking at anything else.  He kept a steady, sucking pressure on Phil’s cock.  His jaw was starting to get sore by that time, so he eased off a little, making up for it by wrapping his hand around Phil’s base and working it up and down.  He caught Phil’s eye again to check if that was good too, and Phil just said, “Jesus,” again, and then, “I think I’m-”

Which was definitely good, because that was about all he managed to get out before his head rolled back again and he was coming.  Tom choked a little, but just a little, and the way Phil reached down and touched his face after would have made it worth it anyway. 

“I didn’t think...” Phil started, tracing the line of Tom’s lips with his thumb.  He shook his head as if to clear it, and after that there were still traces of awe in his expression, but there was humor too.  “I didn’t think you were hungry.”

Tom made a disgusted noise because that was a really awful joke, but it didn’t last when Phil hauled him up into a kiss.  “Yeah,” he said, between that kiss and another.  “I guess I am pretty hungry.”

Phil laughed against his lips. 

*   *   *

Christmas came and went; New Year’s approached.  There was another party, which Tom looked forward to a lot more than the last.  Frankly, he found himself looking forward to almost everything more than he had before.  He and Phil were still figuring things out- still figuring each other out- but Tom was happy.  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been happier. 

Dave seemed to observe as much at the party.  “You seem... better,” he remarked.  Better than what Tom didn’t know and decided not to ask.

Sarah didn’t say anything, but her eyebrows did waggle at him in a rather suggestive fashion as she sipped her champagne.

Tom shrugged, glancing over at Phil without thinking.  He was holding court with a few people from his offices toward the other end of the room.  Tom had kept his distance for most of the night, mainly because he wanted to prove a point to himself.  Phil’s boyfriend might have been pretty well behind them at that point, but the jealousy Tom had felt wasn’t.  It seemed childish now that Tom knew he had Phil in every sense that mattered- and had done for so long it really was lucky that Phil hadn’t eventually given up on him- and Tom was accordingly trying to be less possessive.  Phil got to have other friends.  Tom glanced toward his own people again, and changed the subject away from himself. 

He managed to get sufficiently absorbed in Sarah’s story about her new neighbor that he was actually surprised when Phil, smiling faintly, appeared at his elbow.  “Can I talk to you for a minute?” Phil asked.

“Sure,” Tom answered immediately.

Phil took him by the elbow and quietly drew him upstairs, back to the roof.  Tom was absolutely fine with the idea of that becoming their spot, but he was still a little puzzled: “What’s going on?”

"Nothing,” Phil said, still with that small smile on his face.  “It’s just almost midnight, and I _am_ gonna want to kiss you if that's all right.”

"It's all right."  And Tom couldn’t rightfully say that he wasn’t glad it would happen up here, in the quiet, rather than downstairs, but he still said, “I think Sarah already knows what’s going on between us.  Ruth too, probably.  And Dave might not be far behind.”

Phil lifted an eyebrow.  “What are you saying?”

“Just that... I know you’re probably keeping quiet about all this for my benefit.  And I appreciate that, because I do like to keep my private life private.  But... I’m not planning to hide this from the people I- we- care about and I want you to know that.”  He had been thinking about it a lot recently, because he knew that Phil had been out of the closet for a really long time- since back when being gay and working with the police was a lot harder than it was now, and it could still be pretty hard sometimes- and he didn’t want Phil to feel forced back into it just because there were things Tom didn’t yet feel able to fit his life around.  But they had been so close for so long that Tom thought they might not actually have to hide anything, as long as they weren't snogging in front of Ruth's office, which Tom was confident wasn't Phil's style any more than it was his.  People would make their own assumptions, as they always had.  Tom hoped that would be enough, but if it wasn’t-

“That sounds just about perfect,” Phil said. 

“Good.”  Tom felt a little breathless with relief.  “Because I do want to make this work.  I want everything with you.”

Tom hadn’t necessarily meant that to come out flirtatiously, exactly, but the look Phil shot him as he eased closer definitely took it in that direction.  “Everything, huh?”

Tom’s mouth went pleasantly dry.  “Yeah.  Everything I’ve ever done.  And... and everything I haven’t.”

“So there _are_ things you haven’t done.”

Tom whacked him on the arm lightly.  “I knew that was a thing.”

Phil laughed out loud and got closer still.  “Shut up, Tom.” he said.

Tom obediently shut up, and kissed him.  

**Author's Note:**

> Come see me on [tumblr](http://potentiality-26.tumblr.com/).


End file.
